


Revelation at Reichenbach, or The Adventure of the Undying Detective

by dairesfanficrefuge_archivist



Category: Highlander - All Media Types, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-02-01
Updated: 2001-02-01
Packaged: 2018-12-18 06:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11868171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist/pseuds/dairesfanficrefuge_archivist
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Revelation at Reichenbach, or The Adventure of the Undying Detective

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Revelations at Reichenbach by Roninja

| 

_Revelation at Reichenbach_   
or   
The Adventure of the Undying Detective 

by John H. Watson, MD   
edited by Roninja 

A _Highlander/Sherlock Holmes_ crossover fanfic 

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** As all devotees of the Master know, Sherlock Holmes is immortal. This narrative seeks to explain how it came about. 

* * *

It was in the early summer of 1894, a few months after the events I have entitled "The Adventure of the Empty House", that my friend, Sherlock Holmes and I were visited by Inspector Tobias Gregson of Scotland Yard. He had come to seek Holmes's assistance on a bizarre case. 

"It's like nothing I've ever come across before, Mr. Holmes," the Inspector was saying, "The body of a young man was found down by the docks. He was well dressed. His clothes are of German origin. His billfold still contained four hundred pounds. His papers identify him as a Rupert Hentzau, late of the Principality of Ruritania." 

"An intriguing description, Gregson," Holmes said, "but hardly extraordinary." 

"I've yet to mention the stranger aspects of this case," Gregson replied. 

"Such as?" urged Holmes, one eyebrow raised. 

"The man had been decapitated with a single blow, as with a sword," Gregson said. "People in that area last night reported hearing what sounded like a sword-fight. Seconds after these sounds subsided there was a freak electrical storm. One man mentioned hearing someone saying something like 'There can only be one.' A German calvary sabre was found in the dead man's right hand." 

Holmes was silent for a long moment. His eyes drooped sleepily, as when he was deep in thought. 

When he did speak, it was with a grave tone, "Forgive me, Gregson. I regret that I can be of no help to you in this case." 

"But Mr. Holmes, I am beyond my depths!" Gregson exclaimed. "Without your aid, I fear this case will never be solved." 

"You do yourself an injustice," Holmes said, "I find you a very competent investigator." 

For a moment, Gregson was struck dumb. I believe he was flattered beyond words. Nevertheless, he continued for some time to cajole Holmes. My friend, however, was adamant in his refusal. 

After a few minutes, the official detective left in a state of consternation. Holmes looked at the door our guest had exited with some sadness. 

"Poor Gregson," he said. "I am afraid he is right. This case will never be closed." 

"I fail to understand why you cannot help him expose the killer," I said. 

"Oh, I could name the killer," Holmes affirmed, "but I have no wish to inconvenience him." 

I was shocked. I had never heard him speak thus of any assassin. "Why are you so solicitous of a murderer?" I asked. 

"It was not murder, Watson," he said. "I assure you that it was in self defence." 

"And how can you be so certain of that?" I inquired. 

"Because, my dear doctor," he said, "I am the killer." 

I was aghast with horror. "You Holmes? How could you kill a man in such a savage manner?" 

"I had little choice in the matter," he said. "It was the only way he could be dispatched." 

"I don't understand what you mean by that," I said, "and why kill that man at all?" 

"He threatened to destroy an entire family. He had already murdered three members of that family before I was engaged by Lady Burlesdon." 

"Surely, the police could have arrested him!" I offered. 

"Yes, and if he had been convicted, then what?" Holmes asked. 

"He would have been hanged, of course," I replied. 

"Ah Watson, but there is the rub," he said smiling. "You see, to this particular gentleman, hanging would only have been a minor irritation." 

I was growing more confused and horrified by the moment. I wondered if my friend had gone mad. 

"No," he said, "I give you my word. I am quite sane." He must have discerned the look of concern on my face. 

"I must confess I have not been completely honest with you, old friend," he continued. 

"Oh?" I said, "concerning what?" 

"Concerning my return from the dead," he said. "If I had told you the truth, I fear you would not have believed me. You still may not." 

I began to protest, but he held up his hand, and bade me to sit down. It may be remembered that for two years the world had understood Holmes to have died at Reichenbach Falls. It was believed that he and the nefarious Professor Moriarty had grappled with each other and had toppled into that fathomless abyss. A few months ago, however, Holmes had miraculously appeared in my surgery. He had been able to solve the mysterious murder of the honourable Ronald Adair, and effect the capture of Colonel Sebastien Moran. What he told me now was the most incredible tale in my eventful life. 

"What I told you that day in your surgery was, for the most part, true," he began. "I was able, using my knowledge of baritsu, to hurl the unlamented Professor into the chasm. I decided to use my supposed demise to my advantage. It was when I attempted to climb the sheer rock wall that my trouble started. I was two thirds up the cliff when I felt a silent bullet enter my back, and I found my self plummeting into that awful chasm. I seemed to fall forever. I thought my life was over, and in a sense, it was. Eventually, I came to the bottom, and the maelstrom sucked me under. I may have cracked my skull on a rock. At any event, I drowned, and I died." 

"Excuse me," I said, "but this is incomprehensible! How can you say you died when your very presence in this room contradicts your statement?" 

Holmes went to the mantelpiece to fill his pipe. "I did tell you that you would find my story unbelievable." He sat down and lit his pipe. "If you would allow me to finish my tale without interruption, I promise all your questions will be answered." 

"Very well." I acceded to his request. 

"As I was saying," he continued, "I died. I was amazed, as you can imagine, when I revived. I found myself floating down a river, through a town. Somehow I had the presence of mind to make for one of the banks. I crawled up onto a grassy knoll, and sat there. I tried to grasp what had happened, but failed. The Chinese say that if you sit by the river long enough, you will see the dead body of your enemy float by. I can attest to the truth of this, as I have seen Moriarty's corpse sweep by me, borne by the river's current. 

"After a while, two small boys came upon me. I must have been a sight! My clothes were sodden and shredded. My face was bruised, and there was blood in my hair, though the wound had miraculously healed. One lad was frightened, and ran off. I felt terrible about that. His companion, though, was made of sterner stuff. He gestured for me to follow him. I did, and soon we were at a modest house not far from the river. The lad took my hand, and we entered the kitchen door. We startled the young woman working there. She let out a scream when she saw me. A muscular young man bounded into the room. He would have attacked me, but my young benefactor interceded for me. He must have explained my predicament, for the man and woman were not as alarmed. The woman took me by the arm, and bade me to sit down. They offered me food. I suddenly discovered that I was ravenous. 

"My hosts introduced themselves as Hans and Gretchen Bruchner. Their son was named Karl. I told them that my name was Sigerson. I said I had been robbed and pushed into the river. I doubt they would have believed the truth. I scarcely believed it myself. After the best meal I will ever have, I suddenly felt exhausted. Young Karl was good enough to give up his bed for the night. I slept as I have never slept before. Frau Bruchner informed me that I had slumbered an entire night and day. You know me, Watson. I rarely sleep two hours a night. The good woman had cleaned and mended my clothes. 

"The next day I asked Herr Bruchner to take me to a telegraph office. He agreed to do so. Before I left, I tried to express my gratitude to little Karl and his mother. Not being an demonstrative man. I fear I made a mess of it. The boy hugged me, and the lady kissed my cheek. I was at a loss. 

"We entered the town of Reinbach on Bruchner's dog-cart. Bruchner told me that Ludwig von Beethoven had lived here. He took pride in that. 

"When we arrived at the telegraph office I wired Mycroft for funds. Then Bruchner and I went to the nearest beer hall. This was a mistake, for that is where I saw Colonel Moran, and he saw me. The look on his face was priceless. You would have thought he had seen a ghost. He could do nothing in that crowded place. Bruchner and I had a stein of beer. 

"In a while, I asked my friend to return with me to the telegraph office. My brother had wired me two thousand pounds. I dragged Bruchner to a bank, where I cashed the order and converted to marks. I gave Bruchner some money. At first he refused, but I insisted. We shook hands, and he went home. I went to the railroad station, and took the first east bound train. 

"My travels were as I described to you. I was in Khartoum and Mecca. It was in Tibet that I finally gained understanding of what I had become. 

"I was waiting for an audience with the Dalai Lama in the antechamber of his throne room. Suddenly, a sensation came over me. My head was buzzing, as if a thousand wasps were in my skull. I cast around wildly, until I saw a tall, dark man. The buzzing subsided when our eyes locked. The man approached me. 

"'I am Connor MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod,' he said. 'We are on holy ground.' 

"'I am pleased to meet you, Mister MacLeod,' I said, 'though why you point out the obvious is beyond me.' 

"'We cannae fight here,' his Scottish burr was pronounced. 

"'We have just met,' I said. 'I know of no quarrel I have with you.' 

"A look of surprise and amusement crossed his face. 'When did you die?' he asked. 

"It was a strange question, but what was even stranger was that I could answer it. I told him my true name, and what had occurred at Reichenbach. 

"'Did anyone see you die?' he asked. 

"I told him I suspected Colonel Moran had shot me. 

"'Have you encountered him since then?' 

"'Yes,' I said, 'at a beer hall in Reinbach.' 

"'That could be inconvenient,' he said. 

"At that moment, a monk approached to tell me that His Holiness would see me. 

"As I turned to leave, MacLeod grasped my arm. 'We must talk, and soon!' His voice was grave. 

"I cannot tell you what transpired between the Lama and myself. My mind was preoccupied with the bizarre encounter I had just had with the Scotsman. I asked the Dalai Lama if he knew anything about Mr. MacLeod. The monk would only say that MacLeod had been coming to Tibet for a very long time. He told me that he was the fifth of his line to know the Highlander. 

"He was still where I had left him when I left his Holiness. He implored me to wait for him. He couched his request in such fervent terms that I could only acquiesce. He was closeted with the Lama for a good two hours. When he emerged his face was grave. He was deep in thought. When he caught sight me, it was as if he had suddenly remembered me. 

"'Come with me,' he said. 'There are things you must know.' 

"We repaired to a drinking establishment. There, over glasses of fermented yak milk, he asked me a question. 

"'How old would you say I am?' he inquired. 

"'Although you appear to be a man in his mid-thirties,' I said, 'you are much older than you appear. You wear an antique wedding ring that is tarnished with age If you had been recently married, the ring would have been cleaned. So, you have been wearing it for quite some time, never removing it from your finger. His Holiness informs me that he is the fifth Dalai Lama to be visited by you. So, I would venture to say you are at least three hundred years old.' 

"'Amazing,' he said. 

"'Elementary,' I said with a shrug. 

"'You seem unfazed by all of this,' he commented. 'You accept the truth of the situation without hesitation.' 

"'My dear sir,' I said, 'it has long been a maxim of mine that, once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth.' 

"'The truth,' he said, 'as you have probably deduced, is that I am an Immortal, as are you. That sensation you felt when we first met is known as the Quickening. It is how we recognise each other. We can only be killed if we are decapitated. When one of us does this to another, he takes his power.' 

"'Then, all Immortals are male, I surmise,' I said. 

"'Oh no,' he said, 'I misspoke. Some of the most dangerous among us are women.' 

"'That is always the way,' I commented. 

"'As I told you before, we never fight on holy ground. be it a church, synagogue, mosque, or temple,' he continued. 'These are places of sanctuary.' 

"'How very civilised,' I said. 'Tell me, what would happen if a male and female Immortal mated?' 

"'Nothing.' There was a hint of sadness in his voice. 'The men are impotent. The women are barren. That is why many of us seek the Prize.' 

"'The Prize?' I parroted. 

"'It is said that the last Immortal will have dominion over Mankind. He or she will also be able to procreate, age, and die. That is the Prize. Some believe it is a myth. Others hold it as an article of faith. They say there can only be one.' 

"'It seems that it will be up to my brother, Mycroft to continue the family line,' I said. 

"'He is not truly your brother,' MacLeod said, 'We are all foundlings.' 

"I have since asked Mycroft about this. He confirmed that I was adopted to replace a stillborn child. This explains my father's coldness towards me, and my mother's distance. Mycroft insists that he is still my brother. I am all he has, and he, except for you and, perhaps one other, Watson, is all I have. 

"'Where do we come from, then?' I asked my drinking companion. 

"'No one knows,' he answered, 'though a word is whispered sometimes. Giest.' 

"'German for ghost, isn't it?' 

"He merely shrugged. 

"'You should go to Paris,' he suggested. 'My kinsman, Duncan lives there. He will train you.' 

"'I am considered quite a good swordsman,' I said. 

"He shook his head. 'Not good enough for someone with hundreds of years of experience with a blade. I would train you myself, but the Dalai Lama has asked me to undertake an urgent mission on his behalf.' 

"He wrote a short letter of introduction for me to convey to his kinsman. He asked me to give his compliments to 'young Duncan.' Soon after that we parted. I have not seen Connor MacLeod since that night. 

"The following morning I boarded a boat to go down the Brahmaputra river. We went through an eastern gap of the Himalayas. Within a fortnight, I was in Calcutta. There, I booked passage on the Marie Jardin. She was a French freighter returning to her home port. The captain was a Gascon who had learned to love the sea. In the Bay of Bengal, we were set upon by pirates. We were able to fight them off. We rounded the tip of India, entering the Indian Ocean. We made our way up the Arabian Sea, and through the Suez Canal. From there, it was easy sailing on the Mediterranean to Marseilles. I stayed there for a few weeks to study coal tar derivatives. Because I am fairly well known in France, I adopted a disguise as a Persian. I took a train to Paris. 

"I found Duncan MacLeod's establishment on a quiet backstreet. It was a peculiar combination of fencing salon and dojo. When I gave him the letter from Connor, he was delighted. He agreed to train me, insisting I move into his spare room. 

"I also met the second most beautiful and dangerous woman in Europe. Her name was Amanda. She was an admitted thief and confidence artist. She was an Immortal and, MacLeod's mistress. 

"My new mentor's clientele were as eclectic as my own. They ranged from the sons of the finest families in France, to common street urchins. There were also several foreigners, including myself. MacLeod allowed me to teach a class in baritsu. I only had two students. Both, by chance, were American. Their names were Clark Savage Jr., and Lamont Cranston. Young Mr. Savage would make a strange trilling noise from time to time. Cranston had a very annoying laugh. 

"My own training was vigorous and exhilarating. I learned that I could run for hours without tiring. I could spend hours under water without drowning. The most fascinating parts of my instruction, though, were the lessons in sword-play. MacLeod's fighting style was a combination of European sabre and Japanese kendo. He told me that he had once been ship-wrecked on one of the Nipponese islands. He had been sheltered by a nobleman of the country. The samurai had taught him how to use the katana, along with some karat'. The story had a sad ending. 

"We would spend hours fencing with shintais or bokens. I would usually emerge from the sessions bruised and battered. MacLeod knew several lifetimes' worth of tricks and stratagems. By the end of two months, however, I began to hold my own. 

* * *

"It had always bothered me why a man of MacLeod's moral fibre should consort with a self-confessed thief. Although Miss Amanda was an exquisite and charming creature, she was however, a member of the criminal classes. The most winning woman I ever knew murdered her own children for the insurance. One day, I had summoned my resolve to broach the subject to him, when an announcement in La Monde caught my eye. It told of the coming of Miss Iren' Adler to the Paris Opera. She would be performing there for a week. 

"Suddenly, my idea of lecturing my mentor on his choice of female companionship seemed fatuous. Who was I to question his choice of inamorata? The Woman was in Paris, the only person to beat me at my own game. For some reason, I could feel my heart beating. I had to see her. 

"I went to my mentor, and told him I had to go to the Opera that very night. When he inquired for the reason for my urgency, I was hesitant in my reply. He was amused and surprised to learn that I wished to renew my acquaintance with a lady. I asked if he and Miss Amanda would like to accompany me. At first, he declined, but when I insisted, he assented. 

"That evening, the three of us were in a box. Miss Adler was in the title role as the wronged Madame Butterfly. No doubt she had more than the usual sympathy for her character. It was a brilliant performance. As I had learned to my chagrin, Miss Adler was an accomplished actress, but she equally excelled as a diva. She is the most magnificent female I have ever known. 

"During intermission, I sent a note to her dressing room, asking if I might see her after the performance. I signed my real name. Her reply assented to my request. 

"In the middle of the second act, I felt a Quickening. The expressions of my two companions confirmed the presence of another Immortal. We attempted to locate him, but were unsuccessful. Suddenly, a strange, fiendish sound of laughter filled the auditorium. It seemed to emanate from the box to our left. 

"'Amanda,' commanded MacLeod, 'stay here, Holmes and I will see to this.' 

"'Poppycock!' responded Miss Amanda, and the three of us were dashing down the thickly carpeted hall to the door of box five. 

"Suddenly, the Quickening ceased, as had the laughter. We found box five empty. The opera had proceeded as the law of the theatre commands. I attempted to find some hidden door, but failed. There had been little time for the gleeful Immortal to vanish so completely. 

"After making a fairly extensive, if fruitless, search, we returned to our own box. Presently, it was time for intermission. I must admit all thought of the laughing Immortal fled my mind, as I looked forward to resuming my acquaintance with The Woman. I was also a bit apprehensive. I asked MacLeod and Miss Amanda to accompany me Miss Adler's dressing room. 

"MacLeod chuckled, 'How many murderers have you faced, Holmes?' he asked. 

"'I have lost count,' I admitted. 

"'And yet you fear facing this lady?' MacLeod inquired. 

"'She is the most dangerous woman I have ever met,' I told him. 

"Miss Amanda huffed at this. 

"'I think you just offended Amanda,' my teacher said. 

"'My deepest apologies, Madame,' I told her, 'but I doubt even you would risk provoking a war by blackmailing a king.' 

"'Not as yet,' she replied. 

"'We will wait outside Miss Adler's dressing room,' MacLeod told me. 'You must face the lady alone.' 

"An usher guided us backstage to Miss Adler's dressing room. MacLeod and Miss Amanda stood aside as I knocked on Miss Adler's door. 

"'Come in!' a voice chimed. MacLeod and Miss Amanda were smiling mischievously as I opened the door and entered. 

"'Mr. Holmes!' Miss Adler exclaimed. 'I am delighted to see you.' 

"She was more beautiful than I remembered. 'You are still the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet,' I told her. 

"'Thank you,' she said. 'You are the cruellest monster.' 

"I was wounded. 'Why do you put me under such a harsh indictment?' I remonstrated. 

"'My dear husband, Godfrey, had just died when I heard of your demise,' she explained. 'I thought I had lost the two men I admired most. It was almost more than I could bear.' 

"'I have good reason to remain dead,' I explained. 'Many people wish me ill.' 

"'Does Doctor Watson know you still live?' she asked. 

"I shook my head. 'The knowledge would put his life in grave danger,' I explained. 

"She was furious. 'You are even more heartless than I imagined!' she asserted. 'Have you read his account of your death? It is clear that he mourns you, and is still in pain. He is your closest friend, and yet you don't trust him. How can you leave him in such distress?' 

"'Watson has an opened soul,' I explained. 'If he knew I was still alive, he would not be able to conceal his knowledge. My enemies would not hesitate to torture him to reveal my whereabouts. Many times I have been tempted to contact him, but it would doom him and his wife.' 

"She seemed satisfied with my explanation. She allowed me to bring my friends in. She charmed MacLeod. She and Miss Amanda instantly took to each other. This was a relief, since beautiful women often see one another as a threat. Later, it occurred to me that if the two ladies were to ally themselves in some less than honest enterprise, they would be formidable. MacLeod and I would be helpless before them. 

"The three of us returned to our seats, while Miss Adler continued her performance. She received a standing ovation. 

"We dined at Maxim's. Gerard, the Maitre d', recognised all three of my companions. He whispered to me that he was glad to see that rumours of my death had been exaggerated. He was quoting the American writer Twain. 

"After a few hours of pleasant conservation, the subject turned to the laughing spectre at the Opera House. 

"'You mean the Opera Ghost,' Miss Adler stated. 'The girls of the company tell me he has been haunting the theatre for quite some time, though lately his 'pranks' have taken a sinister turn.' 

"'What do you mean by that?' Miss Amanda asked. 

"'A few weeks ago, Joseph Buquet, the chief scene shifter, was found dead backstage,' Miss Adler said. 'Just last week, Philippe Georges Marie Comte de Chagny was murdered in the lobby of the Opera House. His brother, Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, is suspected.' 

"'But you have your doubts,' I surmised. 

"'Yes,' Miss Adler confirmed. 'The police believe the brothers fought over Christine Daa', a young soprano the Vicomte has been seeing. The Comte did not approve of the liaison. Raoul worshipped his brother, though.' 

"'Do you wish me to look into this?' I asked. 

"'Would you?' she pleaded. Her eyes were bright with hope. I had not had a case for over a year. I felt ready to get back into harness. 

"'I would not go into this so quickly,' MacLeod advised. 'It will be your first case in a while.' 

"I perceived what he was actually thinking. I would be confronting another Immortal for the first time. He was not sure that I was prepared. 

"'This is what I do,' I told him. 'The circumstances have not changed. Danger has always been part of my trade.' 

"He shrugged. 'If you think you ready...' 

"Miss Adler gave us a quizzical look. 'Will you take this case?' she pleaded. 

"I smiled at her. 'You know I can deny you nothing.' 

"She smiled back at me. For some reason, my heart skipped a beat. 

"'There is something I have not told you,' she said. 'Little Christine has been seeing a new voice coach. No one else has seen him. Even Christine has not seen him. She calls him her angel. I believe it is the Opera Ghost. Those who have seen him say he has the face of a skull.' 

"'Have you heard her sessions with him?' I asked. 

"'Oh, yes,' she said. 'It is the most beautiful music - no, not beautiful - the most powerful and moving music I have ever heard. It has all the pain of a lost soul.' 

"'I think I shall have to speak with Mlle. Daa',' I said. 

"'If I were you,' Miss Amanda suggested, 'I should interview Mssrs. Debienne and Poligny. They have been dealing with the Ghost since he appeared.' 

"I thanked her for her advice. The hour was late. Miss Adler pleaded fatigue, and asked to be taken home. We acceded of course. When we arrived at her hotel, I walked her to her door. 

"'Won't you come in, Mr. Holmes?' she requested. 

"I must admit to being slightly flustered. 

"'You have set me a problem,' I said. 'I must bend all my powers to solve it. I fear your charms would distract me.' 

"She gave me an enigmatic smile. 'Perhaps after you've solved the case,' she said with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. 

"I returned to the cab. MacLeod and Miss Amanda seemed slightly surprised to see me. On the way home, they chatted amicably. I ignored them, being fully engaged in the problem at hand. 

"Once in my room, I smoked two pipes. Once I was satisfied that I had fathomed as much of the problem as I could with the available data, I retired. 

"At breakfast the next morning, I informed MacLeod that I would be out the entire day. 

"'Have you reached any conclusions, yet?' he asked. 

"'Only that our 'Ghost' was an architect or engineer who helped build the Opera House. He subjugated his musical talent to follow his profession in building, probably at his family's urging. He died in a accident that disfigured him. He has no idea of what he is. He is quite mad, and extremely dangerous.' 

"'You deduced all that from last night?' my teacher inquired. 

"'Quite elementary, I assure you,' I told him. 

"I took a cab Opera House. To my pleasant surprise, I was expected. The secretary welcomed me, and waved me into the manager's office. 

"The office was a shambles. Mm. Debienne and Poligny were busy vacating them. 

"M. Debienne spotted me first. He came over and shook my hand. 

"'M. Hassan, Mademoiselle Adler told us you might be coming. Pardon the disarray. We have not much time, I fear,' he said. 'My colleague, M. Poligny, and I are sailing for San Francisco this evening.' 

"My friend, Oscar Wilde, is right. Sooner or later, everyone goes to San Francisco. Yes Watson, I know you disapprove of Wilde. 

"'I'll not take too much of your time then,' I told Debienne. 'I was wondering about this magnificent building. Who designed it?' 

"'The firm of Debury and Vong', but the main architect was a man named Charles Garnier, I believe he is retired. He had an assistant named Andr' Cloteau.' 

"'Really?' I interjected. 'Where can I find this brilliant young man? I may have a commission for him in Istanbul.' 

"M. Poligny interjected. 'Unfortunately M'sieu, he died in a fire some three years ago. _Tres tragique_.' 

"'Yes,' I said. 'Yes, it is. Thank you very much for your time, gentlemen. You have been most helpful. Miss Adler asked me to give my regards to Mlle. Daa'. May I see her?' 

"'D'accord.' Debienne had an usher escort me to the dressing rooms. 

"Christine Daa' was practising her scales when I first met her. She was a very pretty blonde girl with a very pretty voice. I saw nothing remarkable about her. 

"'Mlle. Daa'?' I said. 'My name is Shebad Hassan. I am a good friend of Miss Iren' Adler. She asked me to look in on you.' 

"'Oh yes,' Miss Daa' said. 'Miss Adler is a very great lady. She says I should tell you about my angel.' 

"'Yes,' I said. 'I should like to hear about him. What is he like?' 

"'He is very patient, but very firm,' she said. 'He is teaching me to sing better than I have ever sang before.' 

"'What does this amazing teacher of yours look like?' I asked. 

"'I do not know, monsieur,' she said. 'I only hear his voice through the walls.' 

"I was tempted to closely inspect the walls in that instant, but I had no wish to alarm the young woman. 

"'He is teaching me to sing his opera,' she told me. 'He has titled it 'Don Juan Triumphant'.' 

"'Do you expect to sing it in this house?' I asked. 

"'Oh yes,' she said, nodding. 'My angel has promised me that I will be a great diva. This work will make me a great star.' 

"'What does your Vicomte Raoul de Chagny think of all this?' I asked. 

"'Oh, you mustn't mention Raoul here!' she whispered nervously. 'My angel may be listening. He does not like Raoul.' 

"I felt no Quickening, so I knew the 'Ghost' was nowhere about. I continued to question Miss Daa' with confidence. 

"'Do you think the Vicomte murdered his own brother?' I persisted. 

"'No, no!' Miss Daa' exclaimed. 'Raoul loved Phillipe. He would never hurt him.' 

"'Would your angel kill the Comte?' I prodded. 

"'NO!' Christine shouted, 'What a horrible thing to say. You are a horrible man!' 

"I smiled and shrugged, 'I have been told so by many other people.' 

"'GET OUT!' Miss Daa' shouted. 'How could Miss Adler be friends with such a monster?' 

"I made a slow retreat. A hair brush flew over my right shoulder. 

"I went to the Palais Municipal next. There, I pored over blueprints of the Opera House. I discovered that it was built over a lake. I found an old map of the area. There seemed to be an island in the middle of the lake. I also found quite a few discrepancies. These could only be explained by the presence of secret doors and passages. I found a hidden door in Miss Daa''s dressing room. 

"I next visited the offices of Le Monde. In their morgue I found the story of the death of Andr' Cloteau. He had died in his apartment when a faulty gas line exploded. He was burned almost beyond recognition. The apartment building was owned by the Comte de Chagny. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. 

"It was time to visit the young Vicomte de Chagny. The door of the Maison de Chagny was mounted with a black wreath. A stone-faced man-servant in livery answered my knock. He had a black armband on his sleeve. 

"'Yes M'sieur?' he said. 

"'I require an audience with the Vicomte,' I told him. 

"'I regret M'sieur that this house is in deep mourning,' the man-servant responded. 'The Vicomte is indisposed to give interviews.' 

"'I quite understand,' I said. 'I have no wish to disturb the Vicomte in his time of great distress. Please give this to him. I'll await his response.' 

"I handed him my calling card identifying myself as the Persian, Sheban Hassan. On the back of the card, I wrote: 'You are in grave danger, but Mlle. Daa''s peril is even greater. I wish to help.' 

"The man-servant closed the door. I waited. Within five minutes the servant returned, ushering me in. He escorted me into a large parlor and told me that his master would join me shortly. I remained standing. 

"Soon, a handsome young man in a French naval uniform entered the room. His face was somber. His eyes blazed with indignation. Like the servant, his right sleeve was swathed in a black armband. 

"'Who are you?' he demanded. 'Why have you come here?' 

"'If you've read the card, you know my name,' I lied. 'I have come here to help you. You know that your paramour, Miss Christine Daa', has been visited daily by a mysterious music teacher. I believe he is responsible for your brother's death, as well as that of Joseph Buquet's. I've come to stop him from harming anyone else.' 

"'What is your stake in all this?' he inquired. 

"'I am a detective,' I said with a shrug. 'A lady for whom I have the greatest respect asked me to investigate this little matter. It is my task to protect the innocent.' 

"'I see,' he said. 'You are like August Dupin or Sherlock Holmes.' 

"I managed to suppress a smile. 'More the latter than the former.' 

"'What do you want of me?' the Vicomte asked. 

"'I would ask you to stay with Miss Daa' as much as possible,' I told him. 'But more to the point, I am forced to ask you to a few questions you may find painful.' 

"'What are these questions?' 

"'Your brother owned an apartment building that burned down three years ago,' I said. 'How involved was he in the day to day business of managing the building?' 

"'Phillipe hired a manager named Paul d'Estang,' the Vicomte said. 'He revealed himself to be a man of questionable repute. He was suspected of embezzling from the building fund. He purchased the cheaper gas system.' 

"'I see,' I said. 'What became of him?' 

"'He was found dead in his rooms,' the Vicomte said. 'His throat had been slashed.' 

"I was hardly surprised. 

"I looked at my watch. It was getting late. 

"'I must leave,' I told the young man. 'Please believe me when I tell you that we are dealing with a violent and dangerous man. If you encounter him, do not confront him.' 

"'I am an officer in the Navy of France,' the boy announced. 'I run from no one.' 

"'I do not doubt your courage, young sir,' I warned. 'You have no idea of what we are dealing with. You must put your trust in me.' 

"I left for MacLeod's salon. 

"It was late in the afternoon when I returned to the dojo. 

"'Have your travels been profitable, Holmes?' Miss Amanda asked. 

"'I now know the identity of our Opera Ghost,' I announced. 'His name is Andr' Cloteau. He helped to design the Opera House. Only someone with intimate knowledge of the building could move with such ease and alacrity about the place. He was 'killed' in an accidental fire. His face was terribly burned, thus the skull-like appearance reported by the girls of company. His apartment was owned by the Comte de Chagny. No doubt Cloteau blamed the Comte for the fire. He murdered the young nobleman in revenge for his injuries.' 

"'But why was Joseph Buquet killed?' MacLeod asked. 

"'I can only surmise that M. Buquet saw something he should not have,' I told him. 'Perhaps he spotted Cloteau using one of his secret entrances.' 

"'How do you deduce that this Cloteau is mad?' Miss Amanda inquired. 

"'I believe Herr Doktor Freud would term our friend as an obsessive-compulsive personality,' I posited. 'He has focused his mania upon Miss Daa'. He desires her to sing his opera. No doubt, he desires Miss Daa' herself.' 

"'You know Sigmund?' MacLeod asked. 

"'He helped me break my addiction to cocaine.' I shuddered at the memory of the ordeal. 

"'What do you plan to do now?' MacLeod's lady asked. 

"'I fear things are coming to a head,' I told her. 'I must attend the performance tonight. The game will be afoot.' 

"After a cold supper, I dressed for the evening. I armed myself with my revolver. I also took a sword-cane. It was a gift from my tutor. 

"'Do you want us accompany you?' Miss Amanda offered. 

"I smiled. 'As Mr. MacLeod pointed out, I am much more confident confronting a killer than attending a lady. This is my case. I must go alone, although I do miss my Boswell.' 

"On my way to the Opera House, I was waylaid by three ruffians. I was walking by a side street when they struck. I threw the first one to the sidewalk. He was thrusting at me with a fishing knife. I caught him by the wrist and used a baritsu manuever. The next man came at me with a short cudgel. I blocked the blow with the cane. I rapped him on the head. He was good enough to go down. The third tough carried a lead pipe. He swung at my skull. I was barely able to avoid the strike. I shoved the head of the cane into his middle. He doubled over, going to his knees. 

"My first atacker was starting to get to his feet. I knocked him back down. 

"'Please, you needn't rise on my account,' I told him. 'You were sent, weren't you?' 

"'Oui,' the ruffian replied tersely. 

"'What were your instructions?' I asked. I shall not repeat his initial reply. 

"'My good man,' I explained, 'you can either go to prison for felonious assault, or answer my questions and go your way. The choice seems a simple one to me.' 

"'He told us to stop you from entering the Opera House,' he conceded. 'I don't know who he was. We never saw his face. He gave us five hundred francs a piece.' 

"'You were over-paid,' I said. 

"It was obvious what had happened. Miss Daa' had told her 'angel' of our interview. Cloteau had seen me as a threat, and had taken steps to eliminate that threat. 

"Suddenly, from inside the Opera House, there was the sound of a tremendous crash, followed by a cacophony of screams and wails. Forgetting my would be assailants, I rushed into the building. When I entered the auditorium, I saw an appalling scene. The huge chandalier suspended from the ceiling had fallen onto the audience. Many people were badly injured, cut by shards of glass or crystal. One elderly woman had been crushed to death. Somehow, I knew that Cloteau was responsible for this carnage. 

"Cursing myself for a fool, I ran backstage to Miss Daa''s dressing room. As I neared her room, I heard her scream, and the vicomte shout in anger. There were sounds of a struggle and another shriek. When I opened the door, I found again that I was too late. The Vicomte de Chagny was prostrate on the floor. The wound on his head was bleeding. 

"Miss Adler and an usher entered the room. To her credit, Miss Adler did not scream. She knelt down and cradled the young vicomte's head in her lap. 

"'His pulse is strong,' she said. 

"I turned to the usher. 'Give me your lantern,' I demanded, 'and fetch a doctor immediately.' 

"The lad did as I directed. I went over to the far wall. Having read the blueprints of the Opera House, I was able to find the secret entrance with comparative ease. When I pulled the hidden lever, the door swung open. 

"As I prepared to enter, Miss Adler called to me. 

"'Sherlock,' she said, 'please, for my sake, be careful.' 

"I turned to look at her. Her dress was stained with the young Vicomte's blood. No one outside my immediate family had ever before addrssed me by my given name. It felt pleasant when The Woman did. 

"'I will be careful, Iren',' I promised. 

"I went through the door. I entered into complete darkness. Lighting the lantern, I found myself on a wooden cat-walk. I followed it 'til I came to a fork. I took the right-hand path. It led upwards to a dead-end. I retraced my steps, taking the left-hand path. It led downwards. More than once I barely evaded a cleverly laid trap. I nearly plummeted through a trap-door into an apparently bottomless abyss. I had a brief spell of dejà-vú.' At another moment, I was almost impaled by a spring loaded spear. 

"I kept going down and down. Eventually, I came to the bottom of the chasm. In my investigations of the Opera House, I learned that it had been built over a lake. I was now on the shore of that lake. In the distance, I saw a square of light. I remembered seeing a topographical map of the area. There was an island in the middle of the lake. Cloteau had built his home on the island. 

"I walked down to the water's edge. I found a flat bottomed boat with a pole in it. I got into the skiff, and cast off. As I was crossing the water, a strange music emanated from the house. Iren' had been right. It was not beautiful. It was the most powerful piece of music that I have ever heard. It delved deep into one's soul, and drew the saddest, most secret memories from there. It was from a violin. The violinist possesed a skill and talent I could never, in my wildest dreams, equal. 

"Nearing the island, I felt the Quickening. 'The Ghost' was standing on the shore. A broadsword was in his right hand. A mask covered the upper portion of his face. 

"'Leave this place, mortal,' he demanded in a stenorious voice. 'Apollo, God of Music, commands it!' 

"As I thought, he was quite mad. 

"'I have come to take Miss Daa' home,' I said. 

"'NO!' he exclaimed. 'Leave now or die.' He raised his weapon over his head, rushing towards me. I drew my blade. 

"Cloteau had no training as a swordsman, but his lust to kill was strong. This made him doubly dangerous, because it made him unpredictable. His attack had no rhythm or plan. It was as if I were being assailed by a wild animal. He slashed at me with all the rage and vigor his madness could bestow upon him. At first, I could only parry his blows. He backed me into the lake. When the water was to my knees, I decided to stand my ground. 

"He hacked at me with renewed vehemence, but I refused to give him another inch. I managed to bind his blade with my own. My thrust pinked his right shoulder. He gave no sign of pain. He nicked my left arm. The blood was warm as it dripped into the water. I feinted a thrust at his face, and slashed at his stomach. His reflexes were excellent. He parried and lunged. I sidestepped him, hitting his mask with the pommel of my sword. The mask broke, falling off. The Ghost grabbed his face with his left hand. I slashed under his left elbow, opening his midriff. 

"Cloteau fell to his knees. The water was up to his chest. He sliced at me once more. Then I took his head. How can I describe that moment? It is both the most pleasurable and the most painful sensation imaginable. I felt Cloteau's life force surge through my body. His knowledge and his memories were now mine. 

"I entered the little house, quickly finding Miss Daa'. She was tied to a chair and gagged. After I unbound her, she threw her arms about my neck. She cried like a lost child. When she gained her breath, she asked me one question. 

"'Is Raoul safe?' she inquired. 

"I assured her that her lover was quite secure. 

"I took the girl back across the lake. We ultimately found our way out through a passage that led to the Opera House stables. We ascertained that the vicomte had been taken to the hospital. Miss Daa' insisted in joining her beloved. We took a cab there. Miss Adler had accompanied the young man. When she saw me, she threw my arms about my neck, kissing me. I have been kissed before, when I seduced the maid of the blackmailer, Charles Augustus Milverton, but Molly's kisses were those of a child. Miss Adler's were those of a woman. 

"The doctors were sure young Raoul would recover. Miss Daa' sat by his bed all through the night. Hers was the first face he saw when he awakened the following morning. 

"Two detectives from the Suret' questioned me on the night's events. Fortunately, they were as unimaginitive as their counterparts at Scotland Yard. I was able to satisfy them. 

"Miss Adler took me home with her. The rest of the night was very instructive. 

"The next day I returned to MacLeod's establishment. I told him and Miss Amanda what had occured. Miss Amanda asked what had happened after I left the hospital. I was properly evasive. 

"A few days later I read in The Times of the murder of Roger Adair, and I knew it was time to come home." 

I stared at Holmes open mouthed. 'Surely,' I said, 'you don't expect me to beleive this tale!' 

He shrugged, 'Why not?' 

'It is too fantastic,' I told him. 'It is a story out of a penny dreadful!' 

Holmes said nothing. Instead, he went to the mantelpiece. He took the jack-knife that affixed his correspondence. With the knife, to my horror, he cut his wrists. 

I ran to the bathroom for towels, but when I returned Holmes' wounds had healed as if they never had existed. 

'Is my tale more credible, now?' he asked. 

Astounded, I conceded the veracity of his story. 'This is amazing, Holmes.' 

'Yes,' my friend said. 'We live in a world of wonders.' 

In the following weeks, I noticed that Holmes' skill with the violin had increased beyond all normal expectations. Then, one dreary day, I was at my club. I was approached by Thorndyke, a member I knew only on the most superficial terms. 

'Has your friend, Mr. Holmes, told you his secret, yet?' he asked. 

'What secret is that?' I asked in turn. 

'That he is an Immortal,' he replied. 

I could say nothing to this. 

In response to my consternation, Thorndyke pulled up his right sleeve, revealing a strange triangular tattoo. 'I am a member of a secret society. We watch Immortals, but do not interfere.' 

'Why do you reveal yourself to me?' I queried. 

'Because we wish you to join us,' he said. 'Mr. Holmes has proven himself to be an elusive subject. We beleive you could be best suited to watch him.' 

'I'll not betray him,' I said. 

Thorndyke shook his head. 'We do not betray our charges,' he explained. 'We merely record their actions.' 

So, in time, I became a member of The Society of Watchers. This is my first report. 

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© 2001   
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02/01/2001 

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